


Overwatch General: A Collection

by Alice_Corvin (Zainir)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 10:26:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12628980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zainir/pseuds/Alice_Corvin
Summary: Various random drabbles that don't fit anywhere else. Some are older, some are newer. Most are AU.





	1. Game Night

Genji looked up at the group seated before him. He steepled his fingers, the metal in the tips clicking together lightly. They all waited for him to start, quietly for once. He let the silence drag on for a few moments until Hana rolled her eyes and sighed.

“Come on, are you gonna start or what? How long are we supposed to sit here? I have actual exciting games I could be streaming!”

“Alright, fine. Why don’t we start with what classes you picked so I know you have a good party composition,” he said as he adjusted his DM screen. Everything was neatly laid out behind it and his dice arranged by sides. Master Zenyatta always said tidiness was necessary for peace. “Let’s start with Reinhardt then. Because I can probably already guess.”

Reinhardt scooted his chair in closer to the table and adjusted his glasses on his nose. He held his character sheets in his large hands. Genji hadn’t thought to ask the big man to join, but when Reinhardt had overheard the plans, Genji found himself on the end of a four hour epic story. Reinhardt seemed to remember all his old D&D games from his youth in a vivid detail usually reserved for weddings and the birth of children.

“Well, my friends, I decided to go with a paladin!” he announced loudly and happily.

Hana and Lucio both let out a long, exasperated groan.

“You owe me money,” Hana informed Lucio, who sat snickering next to her. “I told you he’d go lawful stupid.”

“Lawful stupid? Now see here, Hana! I am a defender of the weak and innocent! I am a barrier against the darkness! No evil shall harm my friends or those week look to save so long as I, Farald the Shield, am here to--”

“Alright, we get it! Sit back down, Reinhardt,” Ana said from her side of the table. “You’ll throw your back out again with all these theatrics.”

Reinhardt glanced down at himself, seemingly realizing finally that he had stood up and was posing with one hand raised toward the ceiling. He blushed and rubbed the back of his head as he sat down. Fareeha and Angela were giggling and gave him a small round of applause for his show. Ana winked and shot him a warm smile.

“You’re up, Hana,” Genji said.

“Sorcerer.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” Hana said as she pulled her phone out, flicking her finger across the screen. “Why wouldn’t I pick the strongest? I’ll destroy everything before you all can even act.”

“Right, sure then,” said Genji as he looked down at his paper. He made note of the two choices so far. “Lucio?”

“Uh, well, I want to pick something that sounded fun...”

Hana glanced over at his character sheet. “He went bard. Are you surprised?”

“That’s a fine choice. Be nice, Hana,” Angela admonished.

Hana rolled her eyes again. “Yeah, alright, Mom. You can get off my back now.”

Angela puffed out her cheeks at the comment, but Fareeha slipped an arm around her and pulled her in close. She nuzzled behind Angela’s ear before whispering softly. Ana picked up a die and tossed it at the two.

“No kissy faces at the gaming table, you two! No one wants to see that.”

Fareeha blushed darkly. “Mother!”

“Well, I’m not wrong,” Ana said before looking over at Lucio. “Bard is a fine choice.”

“Thank you, Miss Amari!”

“You’re such a suck up,” Hana said, nudging him in the side with an elbow.

Lucio just smiled. “Maybe, but being nice is why she gives me more cookies than you.”

“On that note,” Genji said, ignoring Hana and Lucio as they began to make faces at each other, “What did you pick, Ana?”

“Alchemist, my dear. That way I can help out and if any of you kids get out of line, I’ll just blow everything up,” she said, cheerfully as ever.

Reinhardt laughed his booming laugh and slapped a hand on his knee. “Genji, my poor boy, you’ll have the honor of finding out why Ana is remembered as a walking campaign destroyer!”

“Oh, come now, Reinhardt. It was just the one time,” Ana demurred.

“Ah, but was it not spectacular?”

“I don’t think that poor woman ever ran another game after that.”

“Well, that is terrifying,” Genji said as he noted down a warning to himself. “Master, what did you pick?”

“I thought monk would be most fitting for me,” Zenyatta said. “I also spent many points in diplomacy, so that we will have no need for violence.”

Genji had tried to explain that it was not going to work that way, but Zenyatta had insisted. The rest of the table smiled and said nothing, not even Hana. Though she rolled her eyes extra hard for that.

“Wonderful, Master,” Genji said instead and turned his gaze to Fareeha and Angela. “How about you two?”

“Cleric!” Angela said.

“And her warrior defender!” Fareeha added.

“I bet they’re both lawful good too,” Hana said.

“What? No! I’m, ah, I’m good but not lawful,” Fareeha said as she grabbed her paper. “Neutral! I’m neutral good.”

“Nice save, Liebling,” Angela said teasingly, giving Fareeha a pat on the arm.

Genji made his notes. “And last but not least--”

“That depends on who you ask,” Hana said in a stage whisper.

“McCree, what did you pick?” Genji finished, ignoring Hana.

“Well, now, it took some thought and some looking, but I think I found the perfect class for me,” McCree said around the butt of his unlit cigar. Ana would not let him smoke inside. “I went with gunslinger.”

This time the groan came up from every side of the table. Dice pelted McCree as he tried to hide behind his hat. Genji sighed happily. This was going to be a fantastic campaign.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used Pathdinger classes, oh well...
> 
> \-----
> 
> If you enjoyed this and want to see more, consider [supporting me on Patreon.](https://www.patreon.com/bePatron?u=986555)  
> Or if that's too serious just yet, maybe [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/Y8Y358E9)  
> No matter what, thank you for reading!


	2. Embarrassing Reunion

Fareeha took a deep breath and opened the door, not knowing what to expect. Three people stood inside the small room, two of them facing away from her. Her mother smiled and gave a small wave. The two strangers turned around, both of them were men and both of them looked familiar. One was wearing the dumbest hat she had ever seen, a cowboy hat over a century out of fashion now. His face was ringed by a bristly beard and lined with weather and age. She knew those eyes though.

“Jesse? Is that you?” she asked, a smile breaking out across her lips.

“Well, shit, Fareeha?” McCree said, stepping toward her. “I ain’t seen you in...how long now? Were still a weedy thing last time.”

Fareeha took two quick steps over to him and threw her arms around his torso. She squeezed hard, lifting him off his feet and giving him an affectionate shake. He wheezed as she nearly knocked the breath from him.

“Who’s weedy now, old man?” she asked him as she set him back on his feet.

“Old man? Old man?” McCree huffed indignantly. He adjusted his hat before crossing his arms over his chest. “I still got more youth in me then you’ve ever had, all serious and grumpy like your mom over here.”

“Some of us have to be serious,” Ana said dismissively. “We can’t all run around in costume our whole adult life.”

The other man cleared his throat. “It’s good to see you again, Fareeha.”

Narrowing her eyes in uncertainty, Fareeha looked closer at the man. He was older, probably as old as Ana, with short white hair. His face had been scarred badly, one cut running down over his bright blue eye. Fareeha stepped closer, her breath catching in her chest as she recognized him.

“Uncle Jack? Is that you?” she asked quietly.

Before the man could answer, McCree burst out laughing. He dropped his arms away from his chest, stepping over closer to Fareeha. As she looked at him in confusion, she nudged her roughly with his elbow.

“Oh shit, I forgot about that!” McCree said. “That you used to call Captain Morrison uncle. Shoulda seen the look on your face too!”

Ana and Jack both glanced at each other, before Ana stepped forward to say something. Fareeha didn’t notice as she spun on her heel to face McCree, slugging him hard in the shoulder. He stopped laughing immediately and put a hand to his shoulder, rubbing it gently.

“Yeah? Well, remember that time you tripped in the mess hall and when my mother tried to help you up you called her mommy?” Fareeha asked, glaring at him.

It was Ana’s turn to snicker as McCree’s cheeks went crimson beneath his beard. He reached up and tugged the brim of his hat down to try and hide his face. His feet shuffled on the tile floor as he tried to think of a response.

“Hey, that was, it was,” McCree stammered. “I was addled! From the fall, you see.”

“Boy, you’ve always been addled,” Ana said, reaching over to gently pat him on the arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this and want to see more, consider [supporting me on Patreon.](https://www.patreon.com/bePatron?u=986555)  
> Or if that's too serious just yet, maybe [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/Y8Y358E9)  
> No matter what, thank you for reading!


	3. Bakery AU

The bell above the door jingled softly as Amélie opened it and stepped inside the little shop. It was warm inside, something she was thankful for after the sharp cold outside. She loosened her scarf and knocked the lingering bits of snow from her boots before stepping from the doorway. The bakery was very small with only a few empty baskets and two small round tables with four chairs between them occupying the space on the customer side of the counter. The counter itself was short and bare except for a cash register, the wood worn and smooth and old but with a small collection of dust at the far end. A display rack by the door to the back room held a few loaves of bread.

“Hello? Are you open?” she called softly. “Your door was open and--”

There was the sound of a chair scraping against a tile floor followed by footsteps. The door to the back of the bakery opened, revealing one of the biggest women Amélie had ever seen. Not only was she very tall, she had broad shoulders and a thick torso. Her shirt just barely kept her bust in check but the lack of sleeves showed an inability to contain her large, muscular arms. Or at least an unwillingness to. Amélie was certain it was the latter because if she had arms like that, like hell she’d wear sleeves ever again.

“We are open,” the baker said in a heavy accent, running a hand through her bright pink hair. “My apologies. It was quiet so I was having my lunch.”

“Oh, no, don’t stop on my account. I can come back later,” Amélie said brightly, taking a step back toward the door.

The baker quickly shook her head and held up her hands. “No, no! Please, it is fine. It has been...quiet today. I would be glad to help a customer.”

“Well, if you’re certain,” Amélie said, glancing around the room. “You look a bit low on options. Am I too late?”

The baker held up a finger before she vanished into the back again. Amélie wandered over to the counter, leaning on the wood as she waited and tried to place the baker’s accent. This had turned out to be an odd place to stop and she hoped the goods would make it worth it. The baked goods, she corrected herself mentally. The baker’s goods were rather acceptable, perhaps the best part of stopping in this place. Amélie shook her head, rubbing her hand against her cheek. Not thoughts she needed to entertain right then.

After a few moments, the baker returned with a basket of various types of bread. It seemed like she had brought a sample of as many as she could. She set it down and left the room again, leaving Amélie alone with the bread. That was a risky thing to do. She leaned in and breathed in the aroma, sighing happily as she realized they were all still warm. Something among them caught her attention, something she couldn’t quite place.

Before she could find what it was, the baker returned with a box of cookies and set them on the counter. Amélie looked at them and couldn’t help but smirk. They were shaped like bears and frosted lightly. They smelled of lemon, sharp and acidic beneath the sweetness.

“Alright, I can’t resist. How much for a bear?” Amélie said, looking up at the tall baker.

“Take one,” the baker said, waving a hand. “If you like it, you can buy more.”

“Are you certain?”

The baker nodded Amélie picked one up, almost sad to break it. Not sad enough to stop her, though, as she took a bite from it. Tart lemon flavor filled her mouth, offset by the frosting. She hummed out a pleased sound as she gestured toward the baker with the half eaten cookie. The woman just smiled and waited until Amélie could speak.

“This is so good,” she finally managed, mouth still half full.

“I am pleased you like it, miss.”

“I’m surprised there are any left,” Amélie said as she began to peer into the bread basket again, hunting for the one she had smelled before. “I’d think you would have sold them all.”

“Well, you are the first customer of the day, so you have your pick,” the baker said with a sad smile.

Amélie blinked, pausing with her fingers on a loaf. “The first? That can’t be right. It’s so late.”

“The first,” the baker reassured as she took the bread Amélie had touched. She pulled a knife from under the counter and cut into it, offering a slice to Amélie. “I have not had many customers in a while. I do not think I will be able to stay much longer.”

Amélie frowned but took the offered sample. It was warm and smelled lightly floral, like lavender. She looked at it for a moment. It smelled like home. She took a bite and savored it, the flavor and texture of the perfectly baked bread.

“You like it?” the baker asked. “It makes me think of warm places with lots of sun.”

“I do. It makes me think of home.”

“Home must be very nice then,” the baker said.

Amélie nodded. “It was. Once, at least. Things change.”

The baker reached out and gave her a reassuring pat on the arm. Amélie looked up at her, into that bright but sad gaze. She put her sample down and laid a hand on top of the baker’s, trying to be reassuring back. They stood quietly for a few moments, not moving as they looked into each other’s eyes. A small wriggling feeling began to form in Amélie’s chest, growing stronger as the moment stretched on.

“I’m Amélie,” she said finally, feeling oddly breathless.

“It is good to meet you. My name is Aleksandra, but you can call me Zarya,” the baker said, drawing her hand away.

Amélie bit her lip. “I know I’ve kept you from your lunch but--”

“Would you like to join me?” Zarya asked, cutting her off.

A small wave of relief went through Amélie’s chest as Zarya took the reins. It wasn’t like her to feel so nervous around another person, but this seemed different. The relief was replaced with a sort of fluttery nervousness as she nodded.

“I would,” Amélie said.

Zarya smiled, grabbed the bear cookies and beckoned for Amélie to follow her. She turned and disappeared into the back. Amélie let out a small laugh. She’d just wanted a nice loaf of bread for dinner, but here she was having lunch with the baker. It was a turn of events she hadn’t expected, but rather a welcome one. She took a breath and followed Zarya into the back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really have an explanation for this one...
> 
> \--------
> 
> If you enjoyed this and want to see more, consider [supporting me on Patreon.](https://www.patreon.com/bePatron?u=986555)  
> Or if that's too serious just yet, maybe [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/Y8Y358E9)  
> No matter what, thank you for reading!


	4. Colleagues

The evening had been nice and mostly quiet. Angela was thankful for that since she never really enjoyed these get togethers. The leaders in Oasis insisted on them, though. They said it was good for morale, good to have ideas exchanged. Angela had never seen anyone exchanger ideas unless that was the new hip term for drunken sex in the supply closet. If so, there were plenty of ideas exchanged. Not that she ever engaged in that sort of thing, especially not with Fareeha in her life now.

Still, she was one of the most respected surgeons in the world, so she felt compelled to show up to these things. Her absence would have been noticed and talked about and she didn’t really feel like dealing with any rumors. Scientists were a surprisingly gossipy lot and were happy to latch onto any sliver of scandal they could. Angela didn’t need her relationship with Fareeha becoming some sort of weird talking point at the next meeting.

She milled about the food tables, snacking through most of the reception. That was one of the better things about the whole ordeal. With members coming from all over the world, the food was varied and much more interesting than what she was used to. Or what she had been used to, at least. Her time living with Fareeha had positively affected her eating habits, opening up new possibilities for her. But even that paled in comparison to the cuisine prepared by some of the greatest chefs in the world. She only wished she could have brought Fareeha with or at the least could have taken some home to share.

“Angela Ziegler, what a surprise,” a voice called out through the noise of the party.

Hand stopping half way toward another dish of food, Angela shuddered. It was the last voice she wanted to hear. She turned and plastered on a smile as Moira O’Deorain, the giant of a woman, waded through the crowd. Her red hair shone like a fiery beacon, not that she needed it to be visible. She stood at least a foot above everyone around her like a willowy tree.

“Moira, how lovely to see you,” Angela said, trying not to sigh. “I don’t know why it’s a surprise to see me, I’m here every year.”

“And every year, I fear it may be the last,” Moira said dramatically. She reached out and placed her gloved hands on Angela’s shoulders. “How wonderful to see you, though. This is the only time I get to talk to you.”

Angela awkwardly patted Moira’s wrist. “Oh, well, yes. I tend to be rather busy, you know. There’s a lot to do.”

“That’s the truth,” Moira said with a sigh. “Women like us are always needed to keep the world running. And you must be even worse off, what with the rumors I’ve been hearing.”

“What rumors?” Angela said, tensing beneath Moira’s touch.

“Well, you know,” Moira said as she leaned down until she was close in Angela’s personal space. “The Overwatch recall went out. I’m sure you got called back in.”

“Overwatch was disbanded, it’s against the law to participate in it. You know this just as well as I do,” Angela said with a frown. “I wouldn’t risk that even if I had been called back.”

“You weren’t recalled?” Moira asked, her eyes going wide in her gaunt face. “How strange. Even I got the message and you know how they felt about me in the end.”

“Well, there was a lot of misunderstanding, wasn’t there?” Angela offered cautiously.

“I suppose there was,” Moira said with a nod. She let go of Angela’s shoulders and stood back up straight, towering over the other woman. “Still, I’m glad to hear you aren’t risking it. That would be messy. The world can’t lose such a talented woman. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. Take care, Angela. Hopefully I’ll see you again before the next meeting.”

Angela said nothing, only giving a small wave as Moira turned and walked away. There had been a lot of misunderstanding back in the day, mostly around Moira’s lack of morals. Though she’d been the only one to misunderstand why it was a problem. If she had been recalled by Winston, who else had been on his list. Angela tossed her empty plate away, no longer feeling hungry. She needed to talk to Fareeha, to explain the unease that was curling around her stomach. She cast one last glance at the bright beacon of Moira’s red hair before she slipped from the room.


End file.
